


Shatter My Illusions

by aceklaviergavin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crush at First Sight, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Light Angst, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Katsuki Yuuri, Nonbinary Victor Nikiforov, Other, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9699806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceklaviergavin/pseuds/aceklaviergavin
Summary: Viktor has a massive crush on Katsuki Yuuri two months before they ever meet and is incapable of acting like an adult about it.Viktor’s first thought is:this is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.Viktor’s second thought is:oh, they’re my fan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for Victuuri Week Day 7: Endings
> 
> Prompt: Memories/Moments
> 
> Viktor is implied nb here but it's not explicitly stated
> 
> also with the new info on chris's bf, I'm calling him Masumi and hcing him as Swiss-Japanese until stated otherwise

Viktor has taken to watching the GPF hopefuls during his lunch break. He does every year under orders from Yakov and out of curiosity. The results from Skate America had come in that morning, and Viktor was watching the performances of the top competitors. He hadn’t followed the competition very closely, as no one he knew was competing. Except for Cao Bin, but Viktor didn’t _know_ him.

JJ had won gold, and is looking to have a strong season, though his next competition is Skate Canada, which doesn’t give much time for improvement. JJ’s performance is solid, if boring in Viktor’s professional opinion. He watches JJ’s programs with glazed over eyes and moves on to the person who won silver.

They’d won over Cao Bin, not that surprising considering the rumors of Cao Bin’s retirement at the end of the season. It's a Japanese name, Viktor is sure he’s seen it on the competition rosters before, but it had never caught his attention.

He pulls up their free skate.

They take their starting pose at the center of the ice, midnight black hair gelled out of their eyes, and Viktor nearly drops his iPad. Viktor’s first thought is: _this is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen_. They start their routine, and Viktor recognizes bits and pieces of those step sequences, their hand movements, and spins as things cobbled together from his own past programs. It isn’t copying, not in the least, but the inspiration is clear.

Viktor’s second thought is: _oh, they’re my fan_.

Viktor abandons his assignment to look up Katsuki Yuuri on Twitter. Their profile is incredibly sparse, their pic being a cropped photo from one of their competitions and only a handful of tweets about their competitions. They write with an equal mix of Japanese and English, and their bio is the same.

The first line reads “they/them/their” and Viktor is a goner.

He spends the rest of his lunch break on the phone with Chris. “I’m in love,” he gasps, hand clutched to his chest.

“I’m in the middle of practice, _mon cher_ , I don’t have time to hear about another poodle,” Chris groans.

“Not a poodle, this one’s _human_.”

There’s a heavy pause on the other end of the line. Chris finally bites. “Okay, spill.”

“What do you know about Katsuki Yuuri?” Viktor asks, staring at Yuuri’s frozen image on his iPad.

“Yuuri?” Chris asks with intrigue. “They’ve been competing against us for years, what happened?”

“Have they?”

Chris pauses. “You are the biggest asshole.”

“I can’t be expected to remember _every_ skater I’ve competed against,” Viktor insists.

“Actually, yes, you can,” Chris huffs. He shakes his head. Viktor is _unbelievable_ sometimes. “Anyway, why Yuuri? I wouldn’t think they were your type.”

Viktor gasps at the implication that Katsuki Yuuri isn’t _everyone’s_ type. “They’re nonbinary with the face of an angel, we’re practically _made_ for each other. _And_ they’re my fan!”

“How do you know they’re your fan?” Chris scoffs.

“I just know,” Viktor insists. “One of their step sequences is obviously inspired by my _Phantom of the Opera_.”

“Are you sure you’re not just seeing what you want to see?”

“No, Yuuri is my fan, I’d bet my life on it,” Viktor says.

Yakov storms into the breakroom. “Your break ended ten minutes ago, Vitya!” he yells, the vein on his forehead popping.

“I have to go,” Viktor says quickly, met with Chris’s laughter. “But tell your boyfriend to call me later, okay?”

Masumi calls him on Skype that night, his expression a mix of fondness and exasperation. He’s in the living room, and Viktor can see Chris puttering around the kitchen. Chris’s sweatpants are low on his hips as he makes dinner.

“Chris said you wanted to speak to me?” Masumi says, face propped up on one hand.

“Yes, your father is Japanese, right?” Viktor asks.

“Yes...” Masumi says warily.

Viktor pulls out a notebook where he’s written a series of phrases. “How do you say ‘I love you and we should get married and adopt twenty poodles’ in Japanese?”

Masumi blinks at Viktor, waiting for the punchline. Chris laughs in the background. “Our Vitya has a crush on one of the Japanese skaters,” Chris explains.

“Ah.” Masumi suddenly understands where Viktor is coming from. “I would recommend not doing that. Have you tried asking them on a date?”

Viktor gasps in horror. “But then they’d know I _like_ them!”

Chris walks up to peer at the screen. “What’s gotten into you? You’re acting like a teenager,” he teases.

The Skype chat is suddenly flooded with pictures and short interview clips of Katsuki Yuuri. “Have you _seen_ them?” Viktor whines, still spamming the chat. “They’re so _cool_.”

Katsuki Yuuri is an enigma, even to Chris who does his best to dip his fingers into the social life of every skater in the Grand Prix circuit. In all the photos Viktor sends, Yuuri wears an intense look of concentration, eyes sharp with determination and lips slightly pursed. They never look directly at the camera, not even during interviews. Their answers are short and clipped, as Yuuri keeps a palpable distance between themselves and everyone else. The only pictures they ever smile for are ones posted by their rinkmate, Phichit, and even those are rare and guarded.

They are a complete mystery, and Viktor yearns to solve it.

Masumi scowls at the influx of photos. “These are on my hard drive now,” he groans.

“You’re welcome,” Viktor says.

Chris chuckles into his hand. “Just message them on Twitter,” he says.

“I’ve been trying to do that for the past _hour_ ,” Viktor whines. “What do I say?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You said they were your fan, just congratulate them on their performance at Skate America or something.”

“Maybe I should send nudes.”

“Don’t send nudes,” Masumi groans.

“But what if they’re tasteful.”

“Forget it, you’re a human disaster,” Chris says with exasperation.

Viktor waves his hand dismissively. “I’ll figure it out.”

They chat for a few more minutes before Viktor signs off, claiming he needs to get his beauty sleep. Masumi shakes his head fondly.

“What have you created,” Masumi wonders aloud.

Chris sets a steaming mug of tea in front of his partner. “Oh, Vitya was like this long before I showed up.” Chris nuzzles into Masumi’s fluffy hair. “Don’t worry, he used to do this every year. He’ll lose interest in a few days.”

Two weeks later, and Viktor has not lost interest.

“Vitya, just DM them, oh my god,” Chris groans, having suffered the brunt of Viktor’s whining over the past weeks.

Currently, Viktor is curled up in his Shanghai hotel room. “I _can’t_ ,” he whines. “Yakov caught me stalking their profile and locked my Twitter.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Chris murmurs. “Who knows what your dramatic ass would have done otherwise.”

Viktor wails quietly.

“What’s gotten into you?” Chris asks. “You said they were your fan, they’d probably be ecstatic to talk to you.”

“What if I’m just making it up? They’re so cool, and mysterious, they’ll be so disappointed when I shatter the illusion”

Chris shakes his head. This isn’t like Viktor at all. Viktor never struggles to talk to his conquests, or worries he wouldn’t live up to expectations. That said, it had been years since Viktor had shown interest in someone.

Back in their early twenties, Viktor fell in and out of crushes with practically everyone they competed against. He’d pick a new skater to idolize at every competition, and it was never long before Viktor made his intentions known. Whether his affection was returned or not, Viktor’s feelings never lasted long.

It’s just how Viktor is, and Chris loves him for it.

But that was years ago.

“It’s far too late there, shouldn’t you stop worrying about your teenage crush and go to sleep?” Chris points out. “You have a medal to win in the morning.”

Viktor just wails louder. “Why can’t you be here with me?”

“We’re at NHK together, at least be thankful for that,” Chris reminds him.

“Why can’t Yuuri be here?” Viktor continues.

“Oh, you think if Yuuri was there in person you’d actually have the guts to talk to them?” Chris teases.

Viktor pauses in thought. “Yes?” he finally says uncertainly. “It’s much easier to start a conversation with someone in person than randomly messaging them on Twitter.”

An idea pops into Chris’s mind, the metaphorical lightbulb flashing above his head. “You know, they’re going to be in your country in a week for the Rostelecom Cup,” Chris points out.

Viktor is strangely silent. Chris is fairly sure that means Viktor has thought of nothing else the past day, exempting the time he spent focusing on his performance.

“I’m going to be there, too,” Chris says with a teasing lilt. “Surely, you’ll come to wish your best friend good luck.”

“Of course, I’ll come see you,” Viktor grumbles into his pillow.

“And you’ll talk to Yuuri? Because it’s _so_ much easier in person?” Chris prods. If he has to deal with Viktor’s insufferable crush for the rest of the season, his ears are going to fall off.

Viktor mumbles something incomprehensible into his pillow.

“What was that?”

“Good night, Chris,” Viktor grumbles before ending the call.

Chris purses his lips. It’s certainly not a _no_.

A week later, Viktor sneaks into Chris’s hotel room in Moscow. Chris scowls as Viktor sets his duffel bag on one half of Chris’s double bed.

“Why do you have to room with me? It’s not like you don’t have enough money,” Chris grumbles. “Not to mention, you’re a national hero. You could probably get a room for free.” Chris stares out the window where he can see the rink across the street. “At a nicer hotel.”

Viktor sprawls himself across the bed, leaving no room for Chris. “You say that like you’re not happy to see me.” He pouts for good measure.

It’s not nearly as effective as it was when Chris was a bright-eyed youth. He rolls his eye and throws Viktor the spare room key. “I’m off to train. Entertain yourself while I’m gone.”

Chris shoulders his other bag, the one with his skating equipment, and turns to the door. He pauses with his hand outstretched, as Viktor sighs languidly.

“Unless,” Chris says coyly. “You want to come with me?”

Viktor wrinkles his nose. “Why? I’m not competing. And at the rink there will be reporters, and fans, and ugh.”

“Yuuri might be there.”

Viktor is at the door, pulling his shoes on in an instant. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

Chris rolls his eyes, leading the way into the hall. “Just don’t let Josef know you’re staying with me, he’ll have my head.”

Chris goes a few minutes ahead to give the impression they aren’t coming in together. Viktor keeps his hood up and sunglasses on as he sneaks past reporters into the building. He’s not _technically_ allowed rinkside since he’s not competing, and right now the ice is reserved for competitors. But he’s _Viktor Nikiforov_ and all he has to do is take off his glasses and flash one of the attendants a smile and they let him in.

Chris is already on the ice, along with a few other skaters. Among them is Katsuki Yuuri. Viktor’s eyes light up. It’s his first time seeing them in person, or the first time _really_ seeing them at least. Viktor sits near Josef, in the first row of seats.

Josef gives Viktor a death glare. “I hope you’re not planning on taking Chris out tonight,” Josef warned. “He has a competition to win tomorrow.”

Viktor gives Josef a stunning smile. Like Chris, it’s lost its charm after all these years. “I would never!”

Josef gives Viktor an unimpressed look. “The Sochi Olympics prove different.”

Viktor just laughs it off. Unbeknownst to Josef, Viktor is hoping to take someone other than Chris out that night. Viktor’s plan is simple: he will sit at this edge of the rink and watch the other skaters practice. Yuuri is his fan, so naturally, they will edge closer and closer out of curiosity. Better yet, maybe they’ll approach him directly, but Viktor doubts it considering Yuuri has yet to do so in multiple years of competing.

They’ll slowly skate closer, and when they’re within earshot, Viktor will make a show of noticing them. He’ll give Yuuri a winning smile and offer a photo. They’ll pose for a quick selfie and Viktor will offer to send it to Yuuri. He’ll not only have a picture of himself next to Yuuri, but he’ll have their number. And that will be the start of a love story for the ages.

It’s a foolproof plan except for one thing.

Yuuri doesn’t so much as _look_ at him their entire practice.

Viktor is trying to be subtle in enticing the other skater into coming closer. Sure, Yuuri is aloof, and standoffish, but Viktor isn’t any better to strangers. It’s entirely possible Yuuri had been broadcasting their interest in the past and Viktor had missed it because he wasn’t looking.

Thirty minutes in, all of Viktor’s subtlety goes out the window. He full on stares at Yuuri across the rink. His plan has devolved from enticing Yuuri into coming closer to _please just make eye contact with me_. But Yuuri seems determined to look everywhere _but_ at him.

It’s not possible for Yuuri to conveniently miss the one corner that Viktor is sitting in, is it?

But no matter how intensely Viktor stares at the back of Yuuri’s head, they keep an intense focus on their practice, brow furrowed and sweat beading on their forehead. They’re just as attractive in person as they were in photos.

“Are you alright, Viktor?” Josef asks as Viktor fidgets beside him, struggling to catch Yuuri’s attention.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Viktor grumbles.

Chris collects him when his practice finally ends. Viktor accompanies Chris to dinner, but they hold off on drinks until after the competition.

“Okay, I didn’t talk to Yuuri today, but I’ll _definitely_ do it during the SP tomorrow,” Viktor assures Chris.

Viktor doesn’t talk to Yuuri during the SP.

“I threw them a rose!” Viktor says defensively.

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. “You stole a rose from someone else and threw it. Besides you said you’d talk to them.”

“I _tried_ ,” Viktor wails. “But when I tried to find them after the competition I got swamped by reporters and they slipped out while I wasn’t looking.”

Viktor sobs into his pillow, and then Chris’s for good measure. Chris is going to have to take things into his own hands.

Yuuri does spectacularly on their FS, coming in fewer than ten points behind Chris. Chris himself does admirably, at a 176.91 for a combined score of 262.35. He’s not breaking any of Viktor’s records, but it’s a solid score nonetheless. Besides, he hasn’t peaked yet this season, and he has plenty of room to grow.

Yuuri takes silver, standing on the podium to Chris’s right. He smiles demurely for the camera, hair still slicked back and the blue of their costume shimmering in the light. Unlike Viktor, Chris’s dignity doesn’t shrivel up and die when he looks at Yuuri.

Chris slings an arm over Yuuri’s shoulder as they make their way off the ice. “Congratulations on the medal!” he says cheerfully.

Yuuri tenses under his touch, eyes widening slightly. They’ve talked to Chris before in passing. Chris was charming, if a little more forward and a little more flirtatious than Yuuri is necessarily comfortable with.

They bow slightly. “Thank you, Giacometti-san.”

“Oh, I told you, call me Chris.”

Yuuri nods, still tense under Chris’s arm but making no move to shove him off. “Of course,” they say distantly.

“You know, Yuuri,” Chris says slyly. “We should go out to dinner to celebrate!”

Yuuri gives him an unreadable look, confusion in their eyes. “It’s been a long day,” they mutter slowly.

Chris tightens his hold on Yuuri slightly. He is so ungodly sick of Viktor’s whining, Yuuri is _not_ about to get away. “Maybe so, but the night is still young!” Chris assures.

“What’s this about?” Celestino asks, approaching with Yuuri’s jacket in his arms. He gives Chris a wary look, no doubt having heard any number of stories about Christophe.

“I was just telling Yuuri we should go out to celebrate!” Chris says happily.

Celestino’s eyes brighten. “That’s a great idea,” he agrees. “You did good today, Yuuri, you should treat yourself.”

Yuuri looks between Chris and Celestino, their resolve quickly wavering. “Okay,” they finally relent. “At least for a little while.”

Chris is so incredibly relieved that his nightmare is almost over. He pulls out his phone to send off a quick message to Viktor. “Wonderful!” 

> **Chris:** i hav yuuri get ur ass 2 the locker rooms
> 
> **Chris:** NOW
> 
> **Vitya:** OMG
> 
> **Vitya:** coming!!!

“There’s this amazing sushi place a few blocks away,” Chris says emphatically.

Yuuri just hums noncommittally as Chris walks them towards the locker room. They change and shower quickly, stepping out into the hall. Chris does most of the talking, as Yuuri just stares into the distance quietly, but that’s fine, Chris is good at talking.

The building is still buzzing, as everyone gets ready for the Ice Dancing competition. Chris should really stay and watch; Masumi is going to kill him later for skipping out. But Viktor’s love life is really the more pressing matter.

Viktor catches Chris’s eye above the crowd. Viktor is standing at the far end of the hall, trying not to attract too much attention. Chris subtly waves him over.

Yuuri is handing their bag to Celestino when Chris lets the bomb drop. “Is it alright if my friend Viktor comes along?”

Yuuri’s entire body goes strangely still. “Viktor...?”

“He just won gold at the Cup of China, I’m sure he could use a drink, too!” Chris says cheerfully.

Yuuri hears the crowded hallway start buzzing with excitement as more people notice Viktor approaching. “A-actually I just remembered I have to be somewhere,” Yuuri blurts out. “We have to, we have to go.” Yuuri grabs Celestino’s arm in a vice. “Right, Celestino-san, we have to do things?” They beg Celestino with their eyes.

Before Celestino can even open his mouth, Yuuri is already dragging him around the corner. They’re gone before Chris even registers what happened. Viktor finally breaks through the crowd, staring at Chris and Josef.

Viktor’s eyes fall. “Where’d they go?”

Chris blinks at the space Yuuri occupied moments ago. “Well, they either really like you, or they _really_ hate you.”

In a nearby stairwell, two floors up, Yuuri curls into a ball. They put their head between their knees and hyperventilate, arms wrapped tight around their shoulders.

Celestino watches on sadly, rubbing a hand in slow circles over Yuuri’s back. “Deep breaths,” he says.

“I can’t meet him yet,” Yuuri whimpers. “Not like this.”

Viktor’s only saving grace is the fact that Yuuri’s performance secures them a spot in the Grand Prix Final. Viktor takes gold in the NHK Trophy two weeks later and all is right with the world. Chris plies him with drinks afterwards and Viktor fantasizes about Yuuri.

“Look, look, look at this picture Chulanont posted,” Viktor cries, waving his phone in Chris’s face.

It’s a picture of Yuuri practicing a sit spin, with Phichit making a peace sign in the foreground.

“They’re so pretty I’m gonna die,” Viktor insists, hanging off of Chris’s shoulder. “I’m gonna DM Phichit and ask if Yuuri thinks I’m pretty.”

Half of Chris wants to let Viktor go ahead and end this nightmare. The other half recognizes that Viktor is far too drunk to be making these decisions. Chris takes Viktor’s phone and slips it into his pocket. Viktor is too busy crying into his sake to notice.

“They’re just, they’re so _pretty_. They could kill me with their thighs and I would die happy.”

The GPF is in two weeks and they _cannot_ pass quickly enough. It’s even on Viktor’s home turf this year in Sochi. It’s practically a sign from above the Viktor needs to get his shit together and ask Yuuri out like a god damn adult.

However, at the GPF, Yuuri is even _more_ unapproachable than ever. Where before Chris had managed to get Yuuri to agree to dinner, now Yuuri gives him the cold shoulder and sticks to Celestino’s side like glue.

Viktor stares across the ice to where Yuuri is practicing their quad toe and sighs dreamily. Yakov slaps Viktor upside the head, interrupting his thoughts. “Get back to practicing, boy! That quad Lutz was sloppy!”

Yuuri is second up for the SP after Cao Bin. Viktor sits next to Chris anxiously, his RU jacket zipped over his costume. “I’m going to go up to them after the SP,” Viktor says.

Chris raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re not going to chicken out like every other time?”

“No,” Viktor says firmly. “I’m Living Legend Viktor Nikiforov and I’m not scared by beautiful people.” The way he says it, it’s clear Viktor is trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

Chris rolls his eyes. “God, you’re an asshole.”

Yuuri chokes.

It’s not uncommon for the pressure to get to skaters, especially since it’s Yuuri’s first time at the GPF. But the crowd winces with every flubbed jump, and Viktor can see the way each failure weighs on Yuuri’s shoulders. Viktor is praying for Yuuri to snap out of it, to _let it go_ because obsessing over each failure instead of focusing on the next jump is only hurting them.

Viktor prays for a recovery that never comes.

He watches on the monitor as Yuuri sits in the kiss and cry, head bowed, their normally blank expression radiating disappointment. To go up to Yuuri now would seem cruel.

Yuuri does even _worse_ on the FS. They’re visibly shaken, and their limbs seem disconnected from their body. Their step sequences, normally sublime, are disjointed and choppy, and Viktor aches for his competitor. This is _not_ the Yuuri he’s been crushing on for two months. This person is unspeakably human, and that makes Viktor’s chest ache even more.

Viktor breaks his own world record, secures gold for the fifth time in a row, but it feels hollow. The scoreboard puts his combined score at over a hundred points above Yuuri’s and that is _not_ where he wants to be.

In the lobby, after the awards ceremony where Yakov has gathered him and little Yuri, Viktor feels a pair of eyes on him. He turns and his heart stops.

It’s _Yuuri_ , staring at _him_.

It’s the opening Viktor had waited for in Moscow, but it is so hollow, because Yuuri’s eyes are rimmed red and they look so _raw_. It’s nothing like Viktor imagined it, but it’s here and he’s not going to screw this up.

He tries to stitch his plan back together.

“A commemorative photo?” he offers, trying to make his smile gentle but not condescending. “Sure!”

Yuuri just performed poorly, sure, but they’re his fan and they were staring at him, so surely this would cheer them up?

Yuuri pivots on their heel and walks out of the building.

Viktor has never known rejection before. It’s painful and aches in his chest.

In Chris’s hotel room, Viktor slumps against the other man’s shoulder. “I fucked up,” he sniffles. “I fucked up _so bad_.”

At the banquet, Yuuri is an even bigger mystery. They dance with anyone and everyone, high on life as they down an endless parade of champagne glasses.

They dance with _Viktor_ , leading him in the best tango he’s ever danced. Yuuri stares at him like he’s the sun, sings endless praises of his skating, his dancing, and even his eyes. Viktor’s heart is about to beat out of his chest because Yuuri _likes_ him. All this time he’d spent wondering if Yuuri would even give him the time of day and Yuuri _likes_ him.

Chris takes enough photos and videos to fill an album, documenting the sloppy, drunken mess that is Katsuki Yuuri. It is, quite possibly, the ugliest thing he’s ever seen.

But Yuuri is an undoubtedly charming drunk, and Chris wrangles them into a pole dancing competition. It’s the most fun Chris has had at an ISU banquet. And if the smile on Viktor’s face is anything to go by, the same is true for him.

Chris was _sure_ that would be the end of it. This drunken, sloppy Yuuri was a far cry from the mysterious person Viktor was harboring a crush for. Yuuri is fun for a night, sure, but Viktor isn’t the type to go after anything more. Viktor has built up an elaborate persona for Yuuri in his head, surely the real thing has shattered that illusion.

In Chris’s hotel room, Viktor watches the video of him and Yuuri dancing on repeat. Viktor had escorted Yuuri back to their room hours ago, and is now face down on Chris’s bed. He hasn’t been able to wipe the smile off his face.

“I think I’m in love,” Viktor says, deadly serious in a way Chris hasn’t heard before.

* * *

A year and a half later, Yuuri’s Skype pings with a message notification from Masumi.

It’s a series of screenshots of Skype chats over the course of two months. 

> **kurimasu:** I thought these might interest you  <3

Yuuri reads them, face slowly turning deeper and deeper shades of red.

“Viktor!” they shout.

Yuuri shows Viktor the screenshots, to which Viktor groans and buries his face in a throw pillow. “Chris promised he wouldn’t send those,” he whined.

Yuuri looks over the logs again. “To be fair, Chris didn’t.”

Viktor just groans louder, curling up on the couch. “I’ll never recover from this.”

Yuuri closes their laptop, going to where their fiancé is trying to sink into the couch cushions. They splay themselves over Viktor’s body, wrapping their arms around him. “What was that anyway?”

Viktor slowly lowers the pillow and looks Yuuri in the eye. “I may have had a giant crush on you for two months before the Sochi GPF.”

Yuuri giggles. “Aw, babe, you had a crush on me?”

Viktor looks unimpressed. “Yuuri, we’re engaged.”

“Still.”

Viktor sighs. “You just looked so _cool_ and _mysterious_.”

Yuuri balks because they have never described themselves as _cool_.

“You were always so aloof during interviews and you’d glare at the camera, like this.” Viktor narrows his eyes, mimicking Yuuri’s expression.

“That was anxiety, and nearsightedness,” Yuuri laughs.

“Well, I know that _now_ ,” Viktor grumbles. “But at the time it seemed like you were unapproachable and intimidating.”

“And that was _attractive_?”

“Anything is attractive on you.”

Yuuri groaned into Viktor’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine how disappointed you were when you met the real thing,” they laugh.

Viktor takes Yuuri’s face in his hands. “Not even a little bit,” he insists. “You are so much better than any fantasy I made up.”

Yuuri smiles at their fiancé. “You, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> i mentioned to my friend that there were prob a ton of ppl that had crushes on Yuuri but never said anything bc Yuuri was completely aloof and unapproachable
> 
> and then two days later we learn vitya knew yuuri was his fan before the gpf. coincidence, i think not
> 
> Talk to me on [tumblr](https://aceyuurikatsuki.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
